They brought me in just after sunrise.
No warning. No breakfast. Just Gojo leaning in the doorway of my room, grinning like it was some kind of joke.
"Up and at 'em, sunshine," he said. "The council wants to meet their favorite mystery boy."
I stared at him from the cot. "They want to kill me, don't they?"
He tilted his head like he was weighing it. "Debatable."
I sat up. My ribs still ached from the fight with Maki, and I hadn't slept right since the match. Something about the way everyone had gone quiet afterward stuck with me.
Gojo tossed me a jacket—cleaner than the one I had—and gestured for me to follow.
⸻
The room they used for the inquiry wasn't fancy. Four walls, a long table, and three old men who looked like they'd crawled out of a temple and never figured out how to crawl back in. Yaga stood near the back, arms crossed. Gojo leaned against the far wall, sunglasses in place, smiling like this was free entertainment.
I stood in the center, facing the table.
The middle elder squinted at a file in his hand. "Xavier. No surname?"
"Just Xavier."
"No family record. No residence history. No birth registration in Japan."
I shrugged. "Guess your system glitched."
Another elder frowned. "This isn't a joke."
I didn't laugh.
They grilled me for thirty minutes. Where was I born? California. What was I doing before arriving in Japan? Studying. How did I awaken my cursed energy? I didn't. What was my technique called? No idea. Why were my energy readings unstable? You tell me.
They didn't like my answers.
One of them leaned forward finally, steepling his fingers. "You understand how dangerous it is to allow something unknown to grow unchecked."
"Something?" I repeated.
He didn't blink. "You."
I could feel it then—the irritation bubbling just under the surface. The kind that had nowhere to go, not even in words. I clenched my jaw, looked past him at the empty wall.
"If I wanted to hurt anyone," I said slowly, "I wouldn't be standing here."
"You expect us to take your word for that?"
I didn't answer.
Gojo finally pushed off the wall. "Alright, that's enough grilling. The kid's not a nuke—he's a flashlight with a moral compass."
"That compass hasn't been tested."
Gojo smiled. "Then let's test it properly."
The elders didn't argue after that. Not with him.
Yaga gave me a brief nod as I was escorted out. Gojo followed.
"Did great," he said once we were back in the corridor. "They only flinched twice."
"Doesn't mean they trust me."
"Of course not. But now they know killing you isn't a clean solution either."
I looked over at him. "You're enjoying this way too much."
He grinned. "I enjoy everything too much. It's a lifestyle."
⸻
Later, back in my room, I sat on the floor with my sketchpad. No pen in hand, just the pad in my lap, open to a blank page. The longer I stared at it, the more it looked like me—empty, no lines, no borders, just white space waiting to be something.
I didn't draw anything.
I didn't sleep either.